Ensnare the Senses
by celestlyn
Summary: When his top Potions student develops an inappropriate crush on the Potions Master he decides to put a stop to it in a most effective and dramatic way.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I write for fun and pleasure. I make no money doing so. This all belongs to JKRowling and others. I just like to make her characters dance a bit.

**Author's Note: **Keep in mind the number of hours writers put into their work. Our only thanks or source of encouragement comes from readers comments and reviews. Please take a moment to let us know what you think.

Snow lightly covered the lawns of Hogwarts and students enjoyed a respite from classes as the weekend stretched before them. Various teams clustered about the grounds tossing snowballs, building snow castles and making snow fairies. Albus Dumbledore turned from the window and faced the Potions Master. His blue eyes held no twinkle this day and he gave a long sigh. "I wish I could say that I understand what you are going through, Severus. However, my memory fails to reach that far back anymore."

"Make light of it if you wish, Albus, but I assure you it is quite an uncomfortable situation. If not for the young lady, certainly for myself. I cannot continue to teach a class with this kind of distraction. Something needs to be done and quickly," the younger man implored.

"I trust that you have exhausted all other possibilities to account for the witch's recent behavior?" The old wizard the knew answer to the question before asking. If nothing else, Severus Snape was a very thorough wizard and a responsible teacher. He would have left no stone unturned before coming to him.

"Of course I have," he snapped. "At first, I wondered if she were under a charm, a spell, a curse or even the Imperious Curse. I have Legilimized her enough to know now that she is not under a spell and is acting on her own accord. I have used a bit of gentle persuasion to discourage her and it has failed. It's humiliating. Gods, Albus! I know this girl's parents! They are good and successful people and so very proud of their daughter. They are expecting great things from her and she has the ability. This simply has to stop."

Dumbledore considered his Potions Master for a moment. Yes, Severus Snape was very good at his job. He rarely complained and seldom asked for rules to be bent in his behalf. He had been through this before on a couple of occasions with him and his request was not unreasonable. Yet, he was always reluctant to grant such a request, as it seriously offended his sense of honor and bordered on the dark arts, which certainly had no place at the school. "You are aware of the reason I hesitate to grant your request?"

"Yes," Snape replied. "Well aware. And you are, no doubt, aware that I am loath to suggest such a drastic measure. It gives me no pleasure to resort to what could be construed as "abuse of power."

"Oh come now, Severus!" Dumbledore snorted loudly and looked at him over the top of his half-moon glasses. "You are no stranger to such a concept! Don't even try to convince me of your innocence in that regard. If you need an accounting of incidents that could be considered 'abuse of power', I can supply you with a rather lengthy list. Shall I continue?"

"By no means! That will not be necessary." He realized, yet again, that Albus Dumbledore knew far too much. It never ceased to stop him in his tracks to have that fact pointed out to him. He took the warning in stride, deciding to change his tactics. He would not be successful in his quest by continuing along that vein. The old man was far less a wizard than he was a sorcerer. "Alright, I'll concede that point to you, but I most assuredly do not abuse students in that way, as you well know. If my methods offend you, keep in mind that every one of my 7th years have passed their NEWTS with nothing less than an 'E' and most received an 'O'. "

The old wizard studied Snape with a critical eye. He was right, of course. His graduating 7th years were always at the top of the pack. Yet how many mediocre students were washed out along the way? His sharp tongue and condescending method had reduced many a young witch and wizard to tears of frustration and humiliation. However, that had nothing to do with the issue at hand. The current issue tugged strongly at his heart and and he was deeply sympathetic for the young witch involved. Severus could be brutal when provoked. His silence conveyed his misgivings.

"Albus, if she were simply one of the silly, hormone-driven, young witches who insist on taking Potions in the off-chance of snagging themselves a dark wizard to play games with, I wouldn't bother you with this. However, this particular witch is one of my brightest students. Possibly the brightest in several years. She has a strong aptitude for potions. I would not like to discourage her from that in any way. I have been encouraging her in Potions since her second year. I would like to keep her passion for the subject intact."

"Very well, Severus. I will allow you to brew your potion and do what you see fit. I will not interfere. I trust that you have parental permission and that you will achieve the results that you are looking for," the Headmaster agreed as he could think of no further arguments to change the Potions Master's mind. After an uncomfortable silence he met the other man's gaze. "Do what you will, but don't make me regret this decision."

"Certainly not. And I thank you, Albus, for your confidence and your trust," Snape responded. "I will take my leave now before you change your mind," and he swept from the room, cape and robes billowing in his wake.


	2. Chapter 2

Lisa Ballantine stared at the Potions Master, eyes glazed over, faraway look. "Ms Ballantine, give me the six active ingredients of Polyjuice Potion." He addressed her quietly, knowing that she wasn't focused in the 'here and now' and would not hear him. She had zoned out again and she did not respond. Striding down the aisle toward her, he stopped in front of her desk and leaned close to her ear. "Ten points from Ravenclaw, Ms Ballantine!" he bellowed. Startled from her daydream, she jumped and her eyes went wide as she looked up at him while he glared down at her. Heat rushed to her cheeks. "And you have earned yourself another detention. See me after class." It was the third time since the schoolyear had begun that he had caught the witch so distracted during the lesson that she failed to respond when he addressed her in class. While she had looked right at him, her mind was somewhere else entirely. A quick look into her thoughts had, once again, revealed an intense sexual fantasy focused on the Portions Master.

Well, this time it would stop. He had warned her the first time, the second time he had punished her with a miserable detention, dissecting common earthworms for his stores. Now it was time to put an end to this foolishness. Gods he hated having to deal with young girls and their silly hormonal daydreams! Why in Merlin's name any of them would focus their attentions on him was a question he had no answer for, but he would not have his top Potions student engaging in sexual fantasies about him in class, while her grades plummeted. She would be taking her NEWTs in a few months and would likely be offered an apprenticeship with an excellent Master or a university scholarship after her graduation in the summer. Snape had identified her early in her second year as an excellent Potions student with a bright future in the field. He had nurtured that potential in her over the years, as he brought her along further than he had any of his Slytherins for several years. Having her in Ravenclaw was not a bad thing. He respected the great minds that came from Ravenclaw. It was their lack of a competitive nature that drove him wild. He would rather nurture less intelligent Slytherins, with their drive and competitive natures than a brilliant, but lethargic Ravenclaw. However, this girl was an exception and it didn't take him long to see the potential in her. She was highly motivated and seemed to delight in knowledge just for the sake of knowledge. He wondered now if perhaps he had nurtured her a bit too closely. Was he responsible for her recent changed behavior toward him? Had he, inadvertently, encouraged her fixation? He went over it and over it in his mind and failed to see a single time when he had been anything but completely professional. Perhaps it was a simple case of 'transference'. It was also likely that her hormones had kicked in and brought it all to a head. Just the same, this had to stop and he was prepared to do what was necessary to ensure that she ceased this ludicrous fixation on him. He needed her mind clear and focused on Potions. She would brew the potion herself and she would drink it.

As class was dismissed, Snape sat at his desk and pulled a stack of parchments over in front of him, waiting for her approach. Lisa gathered her things quietly and made her way up the aisle to the front and stood before his desk, her eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry, sir," she began, as he looked up in acknowledgement.

"Exactly what are you sorry for, Ms Ballantine?" he asked.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention, sir, and I didn't hear you speak to me," she said softly, clearly embarrassed.

He frowned. "You were looking right at me when I asked you a question. Would you like to share with me what it was that had your mind so enthralled that you could neither see nor hear me?"

She quickly shook her head, "No sir! It was nothing."

"Do you know what Legilimency is, Ms Ballantine?" he asked.

She hesitated and looked at him in confusion. "It's when someone can look into another's mind and see their thoughts and memories."

"Yes," he looked at her intently, raising one eyebrow. "Shall I go on?"

Suddenly, the light dawned and she looked stricken. Deep color flushed in her cheeks and she looked for a moment like she might pass out or perhaps burst into tears. She wanted nothing more than to disappear, to run from the room and hide for the rest of the school year.

"You will report here, to me, for detention immediately after dinner. You will be brewing this evening. Do not be late. You are dismissed." He gestured toward the door and she turned and fled the room.

That evening, after dinner, he went directly to the Potions lab. He had already set out the pre-arranged ingredients. Lisa appeared at the door, right on time, looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"Come in, Ms Ballantine," he addressed her without looking up from the papers on his desk. "Sit down and I will explain to you what you will be brewing this evening."

She quietly slipped into a chair near the front of the room. Her heart thumped so loudly in her chest she wondered if he could hear its rapid rhythm. There was a long pause and she could sense a cold determination in his demeanor.

Finally, he looked up and steepled his fingers, fixing his hard his gaze on her. "You will be brewing a potion that I created myself. It has been in use for some time now, but it is a highly restricted potion. It is registered with the Ministry of Magic as a controlled substance and you will soon see why. You will not just be brewing it, but you will be consuming it, as well."

Panic replaced the apprehension on her face. "What is the potion, sir?" she asked with more than a little trepidation, a sick sensation forming in her stomach.

"I call it, 'Amour-Repulse Serum'." He waited for her to digest that and then went on. "You are an intelligent young woman, Ms Ballantine. I do not need to explain to you why you will be ingesting it. However, I do need to make you aware of some facts regarding this controlled potion. It works in two ways. The main way is through drinking the potion as a tea after it has steeped for ten minutes. The other way is through inhalation. The potion is extremely effective and works gradually as you chop, slice and add the ingredients to the brew. It slowly affects the sensory receptors in the brain. You will remember all of the little fantasies you have created and you will be engulfed in their sensuality. Each of your senses will be heightened and the intensity will reach nearly unbearable levels. At some point, you will begin to feel anxiety, tension and fear. Those emotions will increase and eventually give way to anger, repulsion and finally hatred for the object of your fixation. The effects will be total, but will not be permanent. They will gradually fade and disappear over the next year."

"Please, sir! Do not make me do this. I never meant any harm. I'm sorry for what I've done. Please don't force me to drink this! I don't want to hate you. It won't happen again. I promise," she pleaded, the pain and humiliation written all over her face.

The Potions Master could see how affected she was and understood that she was honest in her vow. However, the process was already set in motion and he would proceed, as he knew he must. Guilt and pain of his own stabbed him in the gut as he looked into her pleading, beautiful face. It would be one of his worst moments as a teacher when she looked upon him with repulsion and hatred, thoroughly humiliated. He steeled himself and his voice was cold as he addressed her sternly.

"You are correct. It will not happen again," he said, scowling at her. "You are a brilliant Potions student and you have a great future ahead of you. But only if you manage to finish the year with the same top marks that you have always maintained. Your grades have slipped lately. That is unacceptable. I have been more than patient with you, Ms Ballantine. I warned you and then I punished you and it did no good. Now it is time to see that it does not happen again. Yes, you will do this. Then you will return to class, hating me, everyday until you graduate in June." Once he committed to something he would see it through. Yes, she was lovely and once he had become aware of her fixation on him, he'd been guilty of an impure thought or two himself. However, the reality was that he was a teacher and she a student. That was a line that he had never and would never cross. "Do I make myself clear?" he asked, refusing to be swayed.

"Yes," she said, "very clear." Her voice cracked with emotion and barely audible.

"Good. Now, the instructions are clearly written on the parchment on your desk. Everything you will need is laid out. It is an easy potion to brew. I can't imagine that you will have any difficulty. In any case, I will be here throughout, if you have problems." He knew that the only problems she was likely to have were with the side effects as she brewed and inhaled. "You may begin."

With deep trepidation and dread, Lisa Ballantine began to cut and slice her ingredients. At one point, she wondered if she might be able to ruin the potion intentionally by doing something incorrectly, there-by inactivating it's effects. This thought brought a sharp look from the Potions Master and she immediately thought better of it. She did not want to anger him any further. Perhaps she could simply resist the effects and act like she was influenced. Again, he looked up and shook his head at her.

Resigned, she set to work brewing. The first half-dozen or so ingredients were easy and simply required precise cutting and had to be added in a particular order as they heated slowly in the cauldron. She tried to avoid inhaling directly over the cauldron and thought she was succeeding until the essence of red rose was dropped in by a tiny dropper. Just a single drop was needed, but it immediately turned the brew rose colored and a pale, pink steam billowed from the cauldron. She tried to hold her breath as she stirred, but the sweet scent was intoxicating and she was soon unable to resist and inhaled deeply. She was reminded of the first time she had become aware of the professor's presence in a sensual way. He had bent over her shoulder and taken her hand in his as she sliced and shown her where to place the blade and how to apply just the right amount of pressure to slice into the object and not crush its form. His face had been so close that if she had simply turned her head to the right and swept his hair aside, she could have kissed his ear. She could smell his musky, sandalwood scent, his voice deeply resonant and silky smooth as he instructed.

Many visions came back to her now as she cut, sliced, measured and brewed. Fantasies of everything from desktop ravishing to secret trysts in the Forbidden Forest flowed through her mind like a Muggle movie. The irony of the word 'forbidden' crossed her mind and she smiled, feeling a tight, warm sensation in her nether regions. She sighed, audibly, as she imagined him taking her in the dungeon, against the wall, in a dark niche. His scent was all around her and she breathed deeply. His long fingers, so adept at handling potions ingredients caressed her with the same skill. She could hear his heart pound in his chest. Or was it hers?

The professor observed his student from his desk. He watched her carefully, as she continued cutting and brewing. She would occasionally stop and close her eyes, obviously reliving a passionate, but imaginary moment. Yes, she was reacting as he knew she would. This was how the potion worked. It brought all of the passion and lust to the fore before crushing it and stamping it out entirely, replacing it with absolute loathing. He watched as her breathing came in gasping, panting breaths.

They had been there for two hours as she struggled to continue stirring when all she wanted to do was give herself over to the sensations flowing through her body. She had never in her life felt anything so sensual and at the center of it all was her beloved Potions Master. His presence was so all-consuming, so intense and so sensual. She could feel the dampness on her knickers. Suddenly she stopped cold and a look of shock and confusion crossed her face. Her eyes flew open and sought the professor, who sat watching her intently. She wasn't sure what it was that she had just seen, but it was incredibly sexy, in a very naughty way. She'd envisioned herself kneeling before him as he lowered his trousers. She had taken his erection in her mouth and he had thrown his head back and groaned in primal ecstasy. This hadn't come from her! She looked at the professor with confusion and wondered where that thought had come from. She couldn't remember ever having had that particular fantasy. Could it have come from him? Was he planting thoughts in her head? Was that even possible? No, it had to be something in the potion that was putting that in her head.

She became aware of Professor Snape standing next to her. She looked up at him, embarrassed by the last fantasy and not wanting him to know what she had seen. She looked at the parchment for what she was to do next.

"It is time to add the powdered thorns," he said softly.

She was trembling as she reached for the mortar and pestle. Picking up the jar of rose thorns, she measured out five of the longest and sharpest thorns she could find. He nodded in agreement. Putting them in the mortar, she set to work grinding them into the finest powder she could. She was finding it hard to concentrate as the professor occupied not only her mind and body, but he also occupied the space directly across from her at the brewing table and was watching her every move. As she added the fine powder to the brew her hands shook and she gave the professor another pleading look.

"Go on," he instructed, "stir clockwise for five minutes," and he looked away. The pain in her face was reflected in his own. Soon it would be over. Just another hour or so and the damned deed would be done. Gods, how he hated this! He'd spent his entire adult life being manipulated and he was loath to have to resort to manipulating a student to this degree. Sure, Slytherins were known for their cunning manipulation and their lack of remorse, but over the years he had tired of the games he was forced to play. He was weary of the deception and lies he had to tell. He would certainly be dead now if he had not done the things he had done, but he had to wonder if he really was any better off in the long run. That is why he had insisted on sitting Lisa Ballantine down and telling her the truth of what he planned to do to her. Her look of betrayal had cut him to the core, but at least he hadn't lied to her. That he would never do. This young witch was more than a typical dunderhead student and he respected her too much to deceive her, too.

Tears streamed down her face as Lisa measured out and added the Oil of Black Snakeroot, then turned up the flame. It must come to a rapid boil before allowing it to cool and adding the final ingredient, two milligrams of dragon bile from a Hebridean Black Dragon. She knew that the bile would instill the hatred inside her and she silently mourned her loss (and his). Her stomach was tied up in knots as the anxiety built. She felt like she might vomit. Her trembling was no longer confined to her hands. She could feel the fear and quaking in her stomach and in her heart as the potions effects coursed through her veins. A wave of revulsion hit her like a kick in the solar-plexus and she turned and vomited into an empty cauldron that Snape had placed next to her for that exact reason. The professor quickly scourgified the mess and she continued.

She looked over at him and suddenly wondered what she had seen in him to begin with. He wasn't really a handsome man. Attractive, maybe in a very dark way, but he was mean and vindictive to everyone. He was cruel to many students of lesser intelligence. She was beginning to find being close to him rather repulsive. She moved back a bit from the table, attempting to put more distance between them. Was that a wicked smirk on his face? She'd like to reach over and slap him. He'd probably hit her back. He really was frightening to look at. She kept her eyes down and reached for the jar of bile. She just wanted to get this over and done with, so she could escape from his presence. Gods he was an evil man, inside and out! How could she ever have created those fantasies about him. Just the thought made her want to vomit again.

"Ms Ballantine, add the bile, steep it for ten minutes and then you will pour it into this glass and drink it," he commanded. Thank the Gods it was nearly over! He could feel her fear and her revulsion wash over him as she glared at him for a moment, then she quickly measured out two milligrams of the bile and stirred it into the cauldron. She doused the flame and stepped back to allow it to steep. He sighed and returned to his desk. It was going to be a long ten minutes!

She watched him walk away with a small measure of relief. The stuff steeping in front of her was steaming and filling the room with its vile stench. She wondered how she was going to be able to drink it without throwing up again.

He looked at her sharply, "If you cannot keep it down, Ms Ballantine, you will simply gather the ingredients and begin again."

Damn, he was a bastard!! She wanted to pour the wretched stuff down his throat. She refused to look at him again as the minutes ticked by. Burying her face in her hands, she took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself. She was going to have to drink the nasty brew and keep it down. She hoped it would work quickly, so she could get the hell out of there. She never wanted to see him again.

The Potions Master rose and strode to the steaming cauldron. He used his wand to elevate and tip the cauldron over the glass. The noxious liquid had turned from a deep rose color to almost black and still stunk miserably. He was glad that he had placed adequate wards on himself as to be immune to the fumes.

"Drink," he commanded and held the glass out to her. She grabbed it from him and tossed it down in two quick gulps before she could change her mind. She paled visibly, at the horrific taste, but refused to show any further reaction.

"Now sit," he pointed to her desk. She looked at him with such loathing that he cringed inwardly. Yes, he really was a nasty, bastard! "You may go when I say so. It won't be long. We just need to be sure the potion isn't going to come back up."

Five minutes later, he cleared his throat and addressed her. "You are dismissed."

She rose slowly and stepped back from her desk. She stood there for a moment as if debating with herself.

"Why are you still here?" he asked, lifting his eyes to hers. "Do you want seconds?"

She gathered her courage and cleared her throat.

"No! I don't want seconds!" her nostrils flared. "I just want to tell you that I really do hate you! I hate what you have done to me and I never believed that I could truly hate you, but I do. I hate you with every fiber of my being and I hope you rot in Hell!" She turned to gather her things and started for the door.

"Ms Ballantine!" He spoke so sharply that she was pulled up short, "You will be in class tomorrow and every day thereafter. Your grades will improve immediately. Do I make myself clear?"

She said nothing, but turned and fled from the room in tears. The Potions Master stood and left by the same door, slamming it behind him and thundering down the corridor to his private quarters. Once inside, he poured a tall firewhisky and lit a fire. It would be a long night and he would get no sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

When she first saw him he was standing next to two wizards, sipping wine and making conversation. The Potions Master stood a bit apart from the other two and glanced around the room, looking distracted. Stopping dead in her tracks, she gasped. Her heart skipped and seemed to freeze in her chest. A hot flush washed over her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breath. A wave a nausea caught her and she could feel the rise of bile in her throat. She gasped for breath as she suddenly felt as if she were suffocating. Melin! Was it possible that the Amour-Repulse Serum was still active after all these years? Certainly not! She had to get ahold of herself and fast. She brewed the potion herself and knew it's effects to be just a few months in duration at the very most. Just the same, her body was reacting exactly as it had that humiliating evening so long ago. An innocent young girl suffering a most intense infatuation with her Potions instructor.

Thirteen years had passed since that day. He hadn't changed much. Tall with a distinctly large nose, his black hair hung near his shoulders and was a bit less greasy than she remembered, same frown and deeply intense expression. He wore magnificent dress robes in black with silver piping and his voluminous, black cloak gracefully draped to the floor.

Panic gripped her as she watched him glance around the large room. She prayed he wouldn't notice her. Taking a deep breath she pulled herself together. "Breathe," she reminded herself, "slow and easy." Forcing herself to look away, she turned her back to him and returned to mingling among the other guests. She had seen him scanning the room and she hoped against hope that he would fail to recognize her. Attempting to shield herself from his line of vision she moved quickly among acquaintances, always keeping someone between her and where he had been standing. She needed to say her good-bye's and leave as quickly as she could.

Long minutes passed. Then she felt the weight of his gaze. When she looked up he no longer stood near his former companions, but next to the open bar with a glass of wine in his hand. She knew immediately that he was well aware of exactly who she was. She met his gaze and after a moment of intense scrutiny she nodded at him in acknowledgement. She thought she saw a hint of a smirk and briefly wondered if he were mocking her. He lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head slightly in invitation. Her insides were in shambles, but she gathered her wits about her and approached him. "Professor Snape," she said, accepting the wine glass.

"Ms Ballantine." His scowl had disappeared and he seemed genuinely interested in seeing her again.

She was not inclined to be so engaging. Lifting the goblet to her lips, she paused and after a moments consideration she sniffed the wine, closing her eyes. She inhaled its complex bouquet slowly and deeply, as if analyzing the contents. Looking her former professor in the eye, she challenged him, "What? No Amour-Repulse Serum? You're living dangerously, Professor."

He looked startled for just a moment as emotions played across his normally stoic face. Then he threw his head back and laughed. His laugh was genuine and held no mockery. Shaking his head, he looked extremely pleased with himself. "Beautiful!" he said, smirking. "Very perceptive. I always knew you had potions in your blood! So what do you do? Teach?"

"No, Sir. I own an apothecary here in London." She was proud of her accomplishments and was quite satisfied to rub his nose in it. "In fact, I brew Amour-Repulse Serum myself."

He looked slightly taken aback, but pleased and impressed. She was just full of surprises! "Are you aware that I created that serum?" he asked, sensing that they were now on dangerous ground.

"Indeed I am, Professor. Presumably, not for me, exclusively," she responded, her voice laced with sarcasm. She suddenly felt no hesitation in twisting the knife a little.

He looked down at the floor for a moment and took a deep breath. This was not going to be an easy reunion. "No," he said quietly. "However, you must know that I have never used it indiscriminately."

"I should certainly hope not! One would not like to think that you would utilize that highly controlled substance in such an irreponsible manner. So I was just one of the lucky few? Hmm?" Feeling like she was just getting warmed up, she longed to unleash the anger she had buried so long ago, but at the risk of creating a scene she kept her anger in check. However, she wasn't going to let him off the hook that easily. Thirteen years may have passed and the rawness of the pain faded, but the memory of the young witch's mortification was still with her. "Tell me, Professor, did you enjoy watching me squirm? What perverse pleasure did you take in my humiliation? Did you ever once stop to consider the effect your cruelty would have on a young woman's psyche?"

"Contrary to popular belief, Ms Ballantine, I am not a sadistic man. It was never my intention to humiliate you and I most assuredly got no pleasure from doing so. The serum is used for a very specific purpose. It was only intended to discourage inappropriate behavior." He wasn't going to allow her to believe he had actually enjoyed one of the worse moments of his teaching career. Yes, he enjoyed humiliating students on a regular basis and he certainly did have a cruel streak when it came to the occasional student who continually challenged his authority. However, he seldom singled out a student in Ravenclaw or Slytherin houses. If memory served him correctly, Ms Ballantine would have been a Ravenclaw. Her intelligence was superior and he always appreciated that in a student. Far too many students actually were the dunderheads he accused them of being. No, she had been an exceptional student and was no less than outstanding in Potions. He had been devastated by what he had put her through.

"Spare me, Professor! I know exactly what the potion is used for. Remember, I said that I brew it myself for my own clients. Forgive me if I'm slightly resentful that you felt the need to administer it to me alone when you could have so honored any of half a dozen young witches, all clamoring for your attention!"

He suddenly stiffened and his jaw clenched. He would not allow her to insult his intelligence. His manner became strained as he glared at her then and his voice was low and trembled with barely contained anger. "I would not bother administering such a highly controlled potion to every young witch engaging in adolescent fantasies involving her professor. As much as I dislike the occasional infatuation, it would be grossly incompetent of me and a complete waste of my time. These young ladies have absolutely no interest in Potions and can easily be discouraged with a few miserable detentions and a failing grade! However, there is occasionally a student who shows such a high degree of potential in the subject that it is necessary to use a different method of discouragement. I created the potion as an antidote, but I had no intention of discouraging the pursuit of Potions. Interest in the subject is to be retained if at all possible and you were an exceptional student of Potions."

She laughed bitterly at that, suddenly wanting to throw her empty wine glass across the room. "Well, congratulations, Professor! You succeeded, brilliantly! As you can see, I've done quite well for myself. It appears then that I owe you a debt of gratitude! Forgive me if I don't thank you properly. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Professor," she said and with that she turned and stalked from the room.

He stood and watched her go. He had known that seeing her again might incur her wrath. He was actually surprised that she had let him off so easily. He certainly didn't deserve any mercy from her, yet she had been amazingly restrained. He'd been caught off guard when he'd first seen her, chatting with a few friends. For years he'd hoped to run into her somewhere. He'd assumed that she would stay near London after completing University, but their paths never crossed. As the years passed, he hadn't bothered to look for her and eventually let her memory fade. Then tonight, at a simple holiday gathering of Potions Masters, there she was looking every inch the successful woman she had obviously become. Regret and something that felt a lot like longing tugged at him. He knew she would come to him. He would wait for her. He would let her make the next move. And she did.

Half an hour later, she found him outside on the balcony. She stepped through the doorway and leaned against the wall, quietly observing him. He stood with his back to the door, looking out over the gardens, his cloak billowing in the wind. Gods, he was breathtaking! Looking every inch the gothic dungeon master. She wondered if he had any idea how imposing, how intimidating, how completely and utterly sensual he was. As if he had heard her thoughts, he spoke without turning, "Come here," he commanded.

She moved towards him and halfway across the balcony, she hesitated. He turned to face her then and she could see regret written on his face and pain in his eyes. "Come closer", he said.

She approached him cautiously and stopped again a few feet away. He shook his head slightly. "Closer," he said again.

She stepped in front of him then, close enough to touch him, close enough to smell his musky scent. Memories flooded her thoughts. Steaming cauldrons, chopping and slicing, tense silence, black teaching robes swishing from table to table, his cocked eyebrow, his breath near her ear, his fingers guiding her hand. She closed her eyes and let it take her back. She could feel his breathing. She could almost hear his heartbeat. His presence was a palpable thing inhabiting the very air surrounding them. Why did she feel his presence to be so all-consuming? His essence was all around her and inside her. Her eyes were riveted on his mouth as he softly and clearly enunciated the word again, "Closer."

She hesitated for just a moment, her eyes searching his. Then throwing caution to the wind, she leaned into him until their bodies touched. He reached around her then and pulled her to him, placing his left foot between hers and his right foot on the outside, forcing her knees slightly apart. "Closer," he whispered into her ear as he lifted his knee. She caught her breath as his thigh made contact and moaned softly. She felt drunk with a desire that made her knees nearly buckle and left her slightly disoriented.

For several minutes, they stood against each other, her hips finding a slight, but perceptible rhythm, rocking against his thigh. With one hand across her back, he held her to him and the other was tangled in her hair. She slipped her hand inside his robes and pulled his shirt free from his trousers, allowing her to slide her hand across the bare skin of his abdomen. He groaned audibly at the long awaited contact while his lips brushed her ear. She raised her face and allowed his lips to find hers. His lips were warm and his breathing ragged as minutes passed. As their lips parted and the kisses deepened, she struggled slightly, drawing away from him, panting to catch her breath. He searched her eyes for confirmation of what he already knew was next. Seeing her answer, he grinned, asking wickedly, "Your place or mine?"

She pulled away then and turning, began to walk away. His face betrayed a moment of confusion and then she turned to him again. "Mine," she said simply and held out her hand.

They Apparated directly into her bedroom. She turned to him and as he reached for her she gave him another long searching look. In his eyes she saw lust, but there was something more. A validation, a relief and an asking for her trust. She smiled her affirmation and proceeded to release his belt and the buttons holding up his trousers and they dropped to the floor along with his boxers. He stepped free of them and she pushed him back until he sat on the edge of the bed, then she knelt in front of him. She smiled up at him, cocked an eyebrow and as she took him in her mouth he groaned in pleasure. The night was spent in the frantic lovemaking of a desire long denied, but never forgotten. Making love repeatedly and thoroughly, each took extreme pleasure and gave it freely. Near dawn they collapsed in sated exhaustion. He lay on his back, one arm behind his head and the other curled around her shoulder as she rested her head on his chest, twirling one finger in the patch of curly hair between his legs.

"Yes," he purred, "that blow job was my fantasy, but then you knew that, didn't you?"

She grinned, mischievously. It was every man's fantasy. "I wasn't sure at the time, but yes, I suspected. It was difficult because I was so young and didn't understand. It was so intense and I knew it wasn't coming from me, but I couldn't really deal with the implication of having your fantasy in my head. It was only later that I wondered if you really had thought of me. It all made sense, given the inappropriateness of the whole thing," she explained, as a sense of wonder crept over her. He had fantasized about her, too. It all made sense now.

"I thought of you then and many times over years, as well. Destroying you then was the worst thing I have ever had to do in my teaching career. It was probably as hard for me to look you in the face everyday after that as it was for you to look at me. Knowing that you hated me and were completely repulsed was nearly unbearable," Snape confessed, needing her to know that he had hated himself as well.

"Yes, I did hate you. The remainder of that school year was sheer torture for me. I hated your guts, but I loved Potions," she admitted. "I knew what you had done and why, but it didn't stop the hatred. It was like a living thing inside of me. I knew it would fade, but that did nothing to diminish the strength of the revulsion I felt. It began to lessen by the time the following summer was over and I started the Apothecary program at University. Of course, we studied the potion and by the time it's effects had completely worn off I had worked myself into an angry snit over it, but the revulsion and hatred were gone. I would still see you in my fantasies and wondered if I were ever in your thoughts."

"You were most definitely in my thoughts," he said, stroking the soft flesh of her forearm. "For many months and then often over the years. I wondered what had become of you after University. I couldn't be more gratified that you have become a success. Those who have the aptitude for potions are relatively rare and you were exceptional."

"So what happens now? Do we go back to our lives and pretend that this never happened?" she asked. She was fully aware that he could see into her mind, but she was no good at Legilimency and had to ask.

"By no means do we pretend that this never happened," Snape frowned and spoke sharply. "It is a simple process to apparate from just outside the Hogwarts gates. I fully intend to pursue now what was once impossible. That is, if you are agreeable. You are completely justified if you choose otherwise, but it is my hope that you will not."

She smiled at him and as his words sunk in, fatigue fell into place, dragging her down. She snuggled into his embrace and as sleep overtook her, she muttered something about first year and ensnaring senses.

"Indeed," the wizard whispered softly to himself.


End file.
